


Metaphorically

by creativwritingmind



Series: Two [52]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Platonic somehow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativwritingmind/pseuds/creativwritingmind





	Metaphorically

Tiny filaments of red spiraled down the sink, insurmountable pulled down with the tiny pieces of himself, black and rasp, scratched from his skin with a sharp blade and washed away by the clean running water. Sometimes Josh wondered if using his grandfathers razorblade was some kind of excuse for slipping, for leaving those tiny, burning cuts on his face that just lasted for a day...long enough to make him feel real again. It was the metaphor that stuck, more then the adrenalin, the voices of the crowd, the invisible controll they took over them. It was hard to explain to people who were not part of it, and so Josh never did, as the only other person in this didn't need explanations at all. Tyler knew the weired feeling that took over hours after their shows just too well, the void of an anticipation and a tangible daily routine, that flooded whatever anonymous hotelroom they landed in. It wasn't as bad when they stayed in the bus for the night, the vehicle provided some sense of home, but inbetween stranger walls and even more stranger colours, surreality tended to take over. 

It were the nights when Tyler left his place on his wifes side, Jenna glad about not having to deal with his reeling mind. It where the nights they spent in that limbo between dreaming and being awake, just like the first night they had shared their bond. Josh remembered a lot of wicked conversations, like when they had fathomed what the world would look like if plants had kind of an common intelligence and would rule mankind over. Maybe that was why he wasn't all too surprised by Tylers sudden attack on the silence, his speaking up in the middle of a sentence as if his friend had heared the thoughts that foregone that words in his head. "...it would be familiar. Like...I'm used to the feeling of your hands on me." Watching another little drop of life form on his cheek Josh sighed and lowered the knife for a moment, turning his face to all sides and searching for forgotten spots of beard in the mirror. "I might agree if you tell me what we're at." he absently replied, dabbing the blood from his face with a tissue and splashing his hands with water just to run them over his features a second later. This needed his attention, Josh felt. This was no "by the way" conversation. 

Drying off his hands he grabbed his toothbrush and put some paste on it, stucking it into his mouth while he turned and leaned on the doorframe of the small bathroom, watching the singer lingering on the bed. Tyler had a tendency of playing pretend he was dead. He lay on his back with closed eyes, fingers folded right above his shirtless belly, his long legs stuck in comfortable sweaters, toes pointing unmoving to the ceiling. Only his lips moving when he spoke and the slight raise and fall of his chest indicated Josh was not starring at a body. He could stay like this for hours. It had creeped the drummer out at some point, but by now he was used to it. Maybe the younger needed this state of physical defeat to be able to shift his powers into controlling his drifting mind. "I'm thinking..." Tyler began anew, "If we would do each other...it wouldn't be weired at all." Joshs initial reaction wasn't the one that it maybe should have been, he didn't stop in his brushing motion nor did he raise a brow. They had gone into too many bordering hypothetics in all those years as that this one would appeal any disturbing to him. Shifting to the sink again, sending clean white foam after the last evidences of his crime against himself, Josh rinsed and and spit a few times before he dried of his face and commanded his weary body closer to the source of thinking on his bed. 

Their shoulders brushed when he flopped down beside Tyler on his front, and kept in touch, no strange gesture, a casual occurence though. "I think you're right." Josh gave back, muffled, face hidden deep into the pillow, inhaling the thick smell of perfumed detergent as if it would help him to get on his friends metaphorical level. Then, turning his head and enjoying the heavyness settling into his bones, he added: "I know your hands too. They're soft. I guess I would like that." "Right?" Tyler answered within a heartbeat, eyelids fluttering for a moment and giving him away. He was too lively to go to sleep yet. "Like...you'd shutter if I ran them down your sides." The singers voice was soft so not to slice the fragility of the moment, and nothing changed between them as they tapped further into the prospect. Josh liked how he could watch the younger think sometimes, just like this, when he wasn't aware of the small lines apprearing and vanishing on his front, the way his lower lip trembled a little. It was soothing, a reassurance that his best friend was still there, still fought that war with his mind even when his breath rate sunk further down. More humming then saying the drummer kept providing answers where no questions were. "You'd do that a lot...just touching. You like to map out people." "Hm." "No, really, you do...you're into details more then into pace." A twitch of lips felt like a well earned price and Josh rolled over to his back too, knowing they would be ok by the end of the night. "I guess I am. I'd just like to figure out how you function. What makes you're breath hitch." 

"And what if I'd not comply?" Another step into a vague direction, not leading anywhere at all. Tyler didn't answer that one and Josh cursed inwardly for making the singer touch that part of his brain, so he was quick to not let it get an issue. "But I would. You got a lot of controll on people...and a lot of controll on yourself." Like being hit by the electric shocks of a defibrillator Tylers chest heaved beside him in a choked laugh, his eye pressed open by the sudden sharp intake of air that filled his lung fully, not shallow like the ones in the last hour had been. Broken orbs adjusting the singer stretched his arm to the ceiling, fingers still linked, let his knuckles crack. "I'm not that self controlled in bed, Joshua." "The times you make her go before you actually do her tell another story." the drummer answered, none of them unaware of the fact that he heared Jennas pleas and moans more often then he'd maybe like to hear. Never having been good in taking a compliment Tyler hid his blush behind his hands now, the mention of his wife dragging him back from their bubble of "what if?"s a little. He didn'T want to let go yet though, too loud the echoing of the demons that had followed him off stage still, his brain to knotted up in non-complementing thoughts. "What about you?" he asked, readjusting himself in a quick motion and bringing their contact back, finger slightly tugging on strands of yellow hair beside him, "What if the setting where a different one? What about high emotions after a show, about sweaty kisses in half-dark dressrooms? Would you take controll then? Would you pin me against the wall?" 

Giving himself time to consider their difference in weight and heigth Josh shrugged. "No. I mean I could, but I honestly don't think that works too well between two guys. Plus...I'd like to kiss you a lot, so I'd keep our faces leveled. Like...having you on your back on the floor or something." "Ouch." "A carpeted floor. Wouldn't wanna get your back hurt." Their eyes locked and no sparks flew between them. "Maybe I would like to get hurt by you." "No one said I wouldn't get your insides hurting." "Ouch again." "Just kidding. You know exactly I could never go too rough on you. Still...I don't think I could hold back and be too gentle either." Modifying his position another time Tyler crept closer, and the drummer allowed his eyes to fall shut the first time that day. The burning still stung on his cheek. Resting his front at his friends temple Tyler exhaled all the friction and intoxication that nights show had inserted into him. "See...that's what I meant." he whispered, now ready to give in to the strenous appeals of his body to sleep, "It wouldn't be weired at all."


End file.
